


Close Together But Miles Apart

by In_Genius



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Dean Winchester Has Commitment Issues, Jealousy, M/M, Romance, Running Away, Witch Castiel (Supernatural), Witch's Familiar Dean Winchester, heartbroken iditos
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-29
Updated: 2020-09-29
Packaged: 2021-03-07 16:54:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,192
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26711017
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/In_Genius/pseuds/In_Genius
Summary: Castiel and Dean have been hooking up for a while, which was a mistake. Dean's a familiar and, well, magic knows how to screw things up, doesn't it? Both have their issues with the Bond between them and try to fight it.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Comments: 4
Kudos: 34
Collections: FicFacer$ 2020





	Close Together But Miles Apart

Blackness filled the room. Not the light of the moon nor of a streetlamp fell through the window, thick ugly curtains shielded from any disturbance. At least the ugly pattern wasn't visible in this darkness either, hardly a relief. The sticky air of sex was dissipating steadily, leaving behind the stale scent of a room neglected. What did he expect from a motel in the middle of nowhere? Castiel felt a bit of sympathy for the room, wasn't its fault that it sat here and its human didn't care. That was human nature in action.

Lazily he caressed the body next to him, his fingertips felt the soft side with fondness and the warmth was creeping up his hand. The thick curtains hid the time, it felt like they'd been lying here for hours, like morning should be right around the corner. At the same time they had just said hello and barely shared a kiss, all of the night was still in front of them. His open eyes led him to believe he saw the other's neck, the brown hair and light skin inviting a kiss. Though his eyes didn't see anything his lips found the neck anyway and put a gentle kiss here.

The muscles in the body next to him tensed and in the silence he heard intensely slowed breathing. Dean was still awake.

Instead of this discovery feeling good, feeling like an invitation to cuddle and whisper in the night, perhaps to fill the room with a little more moaning and pleasure, instead Castiel felt hollow. They laid here skin to skin but not close. Heck, they had touched deeper than that, yet this shallow gesture was too much. Dean's body radiated warmth but it only raised goosebumps with Castiel, cold making his limbs twitch. A knowledge not new raised to the forefront of his mind: Dean was here for selfish reasons.

So was Castiel, or at least he had believed that. Now he wasn't so sure anymore. Lying here for selfish reasons was his normal. This was only to satisfy his own needs, as he ate to satisfy hunger, as he drank to satisfy thirst, as he breathed to satisfy life so too had he sex to satisfy a bodily need. Closeness wasn't necessary for this. Castiel had lived long enough to be wary of closeness, after decades and centuries hiding among humans but also from humans he had grown wary of everything. Yet, his arm was still draped around the body next to him, locked in a soft embrace and soaking in the warmth Dean always radiated.

Moreover, Castiel was glad to be here, to feel the other's presence, had been looking forward to this moment. And it stung that Dean didn't feel the same. Another discovery echoed in his chest: Love.

An echo resounding in every fiber of his body, instinctively he pulled Dean closer and kissed the back of his wonderful neck again. Castiel wasn't averse to love, he just didn't believe in it, better to enjoy the moment that was.

But the body next to him tensed again, more even and the breathing stopped for a second before it quickened. Dean reached out to the edge of the bed, wiggling his body out from Castiel's hug.

And Castiel let him, again the hollow feeling. Was a kiss that bad?

Dean's raspy voice whispered in the night: "You can't love me."

Had he heard him? "I didn't mean it like that", Castiel defended himself, talking both of them out of this idea. "I just meant, this moment is nice." It was easier to live without love, so he had done for the longest while. Being alone and free was an advantage whenever a hunter came to town, whenever Castiel needed to uproot his life again. But the past couldn't dull the person in front of him, not only a nice body for sex but Dean's childish humor was contagious, his bravery in a fight was inspiring and his caring nature couldn't be drowned in beer. This moment was nice indeed.

"It's freaking not", Dean cursed and fell out of the bed, a low thump as he hit the floor. Rustling in the darkness. "Don't say that. Don't say any of that!", his voice grew loud and frantic. "This is just sex, understand? I gotta go."

Castiel jumped out of the bed himself, his hands searched for Dean in the black room. But didn't find him. "I know that, alright, I know." The door opened, the night outside almost bright from moonlight and a nearby streetlight. "Don't go!"

Dean's silhouette hurried out the doorway and Castiel hurried after him, but he only saw a dog run across the parking lot and into the distance. "Come back", he said but his voice was low and defeated. Inside his chest still whispered the echo that he had fallen in love.

There also was the echo of petrifying anxiety, not his own but Dean's.

* * *

Light wormed through the curtains, now the pattern of purple and orange circles visible but Castiel didn't look. Instead his eyes fixated on the page, the words of the Liber Confidebat made his body shiver in cold. Yes, he had seen this before, had known pairs like this in the past, but never thought he'd be the subject himself. Now was too late. The Bond between a witch and a familiar wasn't to be broken.

How could this happen? A question Castiel didn't know the answer to. This magic was too old to be known and too rare to be expected. Perhaps worse, this magic wasn't a witch's. Dean should have told him what he truly was, so they could've stayed away from each other. But no, the boy rather play with the dangers of ancient magic and Castiel was left to find them a way out. Dean's fear to be truly known by another person brought them this mess, yet he suspected Dean wouldn't learn his lesson. Skinwalker, flimsy excuse.

The echo in Castiel's chest whispered of petulant anger. He packed in his clothes and the Liber Confidebat. The motel room was booked for another week, but he couldn't stay longer. After all, he was only in town to meet Dean - and Dean clearly didn't want to see him anymore. Suited Castiel well, he didn't want part in this Bond either. Not that it had asked, magic never did, otherwise he would've refused full-heartedly and ran the other way.

The door of his old Lincoln Continental creaked as it opened, masking Castiel's sigh. Of course he knew running away from the Bond was futile, yet he was about to try. Of course Dean wasn't the only one afraid to be truly known by another person, after all being alone was safe and spontaneous and simple. Being with another person was not.

The motor roared, Castiel drove off the parking lot. The echo in his chest whispered of pain and sadness. He believed it better to rip the band-aid off with one fast, smooth motion. No prolonged suffering, but a quick and decisive action. If they didn't see each other ever again, the Bond couldn't matter. If their relationship ended right here, right now, the Bond would die on its own. So Castiel believed, hands strangling the steering wheel.

The echo in his chest whispered differently. The Liber Confidebat wrote differently. His own eyes had seen differently. But Castiel had fought the odds for too many years to surrender now. He rather follow his own path than everyone else's, this had served him well.

* * *

In the back an old song was playing: "Every rose has it's thorn, just like every night has its dawn …", and Dean rolled his eyes at it. Not that he didn't like this song, but he wasn't in a cheesy romantic mood tonight. Something more primal and carnal was on his mind, something quick and dirty and sweaty, no strings attached. Just like the night he had met Cas …

Dean downed the last of his beer, half the bottle, also eerily similar to that night. A night he had spent in a bar similar to this, had drunk a beer similar to this and a cheesy song had played in the back similar to this. To be fair, Dean spent most of his nights like this. They often ended similar as well, with him flirting his way into someone else's pants.

That night had grown promising, the someone else flirting back. A whistle as the stranger came over to him. "Your behind looks so tasty, I might bite it", the man's voice had a drawl to it.

"Be careful, I might bite back", Dean answered with a smirk. He had a weakness for men with prickly beards, even when they were vampires. He believed in making the most of things and that included the gift of an impromptu hunt. So, he gestured for the stranger to sit next to him.

"It's worth the risk", the man said and ordered them both another beer. "Name's Benny."

"You're all alone out here?" Most vampires lived in nests, but Dean hadn't stumbled upon one while in town. The strong smell of iron and damp earth that this man emanated told of his true being.

"I hope to not be any longer", Benny answered with a curt smile.

There was something kinda cute about him, like a teddybear. "I can keep you company for tonight." A deadly teddybear, though.

"That's all I'm askin' for", and Benny raised his glass to drink to that.

First a little rolling around the bed, then this vamp's head would roll - a two-in-one jackpot. But they never made it out the bar. Cas, of course, had to interrupt them, the little cockblock. Not that Dean recognized the habit at the time, only seeing a stranger ruining his night.

"You shouldn't go with him", Cas said, "He isn't who you think he is." His lack of subtlety was almost endearing when it wasn't annoying.

"Thanks man, I know enough." After all he could smell this man's true identity, Dean was prepared.

Cas's blue eyes bored into him as if his glance alone was a command.

In hindsight, it absolutely was. Dean wasn't good at following commands, not for a lack of trying but because he often saw a better way. He knew how to hunt, he was good at this. And at getting laid by a waitress. "You're in the way, buddy."

"I'm not your buddy", Cas answered, blocking the door with his body, "Neither is he. He'll hurt you."

The sincerity was painful. Another fault of Cas's that could be endearing if it wasn't annoying. "I take my chances."

"You wanna fight?", Benny asked.

Also something he could do with right now, a good fight always lifted Dean's spirits. Leaning on the bar he scanned the room, eyes roaming around the dark wood and twilight came through the windows. A handful of people here that were closing the bar with him. None were really his type, except for the drunken mood of anything goes. He could hear Cas's disapproving voice in his head and see his disapproving look, blue eyes always too intense.

A shiver ran up Dean's spine. The same feeling when Cas had said those three words, too sincere and too comfortable. Would he block this bar's door as well? Would he come and rescue Dean again? Not that he needed it - absolutely didn't - but the thought of someone who cared was nice. Not something Dean could afford.

Images flooded his mind of Cas alone in a motel room, alone in his car, alone at the side of the road and longing. The distance between them long, but the bond wasn't breaking.

Dean sighed.

There had to be a way to make this stop. It was already hard to leave someone you liked, didn't need to make it harder by showing him how sad Cas was. They could only share a moment, not a life. Besides, Dean hadn't much life to share. A safety measure so he couldn't lose much if a hunt went wrong, which it inevitably would. This was how every hunters life ended even if Cas rescued him, only difference then he had something to lose.

Dean got up from the barstool and threw some bills on the counter. Drowning this magic in alcohol hadn't worked, shocker. Perhaps he needed to run further away. Heart torn.

* * *

The soft rumble of the motor purred on the road, the rising sun shined on the black hood and Dean's eyes only saw vastness. For days barely a soul crossed his path, equal parts intentional and exhausting. He couldn't see another human, afraid that he couldn't keep the sadness bottled up but sure that isolating himself was healthy.

At the same time all these thoughts and pictures, some his and some Cas's, were burying him. An earthfall of images and feelings he couldn't fight against, sometimes tearing him up in cursing or crying or laughing. He wanted to hit something, preferably this magical bond that was fucking everything up, but the vast country had nothing to offer but some trees. Which he parked his car at and tried it, fists and tree bark colliding, pain erupting. Only thing he earned were bloody splinters in his bloody knuckles, not worth it. Neither did it elevate the strain that was tearing at him, nor did the bond magically go away. A courtesy magic didn't know.

The yearning was still alive between them.

The moment was quiet as he sat on Baby's hood, the morning sun in his face and bandages around his hands but holding a beer worked fine enough. He flipped through his dad's old journal. Dean knew every word by heart, nothing about how to break this bond. Still, his eyes flickered across the pages searching for a hint, desperation guiding his actions.

This would be so much easier if Cas was like everyone else, just some forgettable guy. No one to develop affection for, no one who'd think twice about this little fling. They should've never met a second time. He should've never given Cas his phone number. He should've never felt homey in Cas's arms. But Dean liked to fly close to the sun, the dangers of magic as alluring as those blue eyes.

Frustrated he threw the book back onto the passenger seat and got behind the wheel again, back on the road. He needed to break this spell. This bond was born out of affection, then it would die without it. Right? The logic of humans and of magic rarely agreed but Dean was determined to make it so. He was well versed in brute-forcing his will onto the supernatural. That's why he was still alive.

* * *

A different town, a different motel room, a different night he couldn't sleep. Castiel stared into the TV but the colorful images didn't distract him, only reminded him that Dean liked this show. That's why it was on in the first place. The burger was growing stale next to him, his appetite gone. For the hundredth time he browsed through the pages of the Liber Confidebat, searching for a way to break this. There was always a counter to anything magic, nothing was absolute.

Dean wasn't here, that sucked absolutely.

Castiel rubbed his temple. This bond was exhausting, not only was it enough that he missed Dean but this compulsion to do things like him was irksome to say the least. They wouldn't be together even if he turned himself into the other man. This wasn't how things worked.

His chest echoed with grief and pain that wasn't his, not helping matters. He could see blood on his hands that wasn't really there, knowing how Dean handled emotions: By bottling them up until they burst out violently and with too much cursing. Even this he was missing for some reason, Castiel sighed frustrated. Love sucked.

With newfound determination he jumped out of the bed. This had to stop, now! He gathered a bowl, some candles and a few ingredients from his bag and arranged it all on the small table. A circle with a few symbols was drawn in chalk quickly. The knife was heavy in his hand as he cut himself, drops of blood fell into the bowl and onto bones, herbs and a photograph of the two of them. A fun day at a mall, that Castiel had never used a photo booth before almost shocked Dean …

"Amor, et demetam posteriora tua!", he spoke, ordering love to go away. The affection between a witch and a familiar created the bond, without it had to wither away. A small orange flame puffed up as the match hit the concoction. Then …

Nothing.

The longing for Dean his heart was filled with still there and drowning everything else. Pain still echoed in his chest that wasn't his. Sadness shared between them, not at all diminished by the many miles they were apart. Now defeat joined in.

Castiel fell onto the bed, face pressed into the covers. There had to be a solution to this! The TV show joked happily, the laughter of an audience reaching his ears. As if they were laughing at him. Deservedly so. Biting into the Burger, he watched.

* * *

How did he end up in this mess?, Castiel asked himself. All he had wanted was to eradicate a vampire from this earth and now he was bonded to a familiar. In what world did this make sense?

He stood in the ruins of an old church, a small building of charred stone and without a roof, though its steeple still stood high. Shards of glass hung in the windows and threw colorful splodges onto the floor but the pews were all gone. Alone the stone altar filled the room. Not that he believed this was the mysterious way in which God worked. Mysterious it might be, but God's work most definitely not. A witch and a familiar were far removed from the divine. However, Castiel often found solace in places like this. Calm, focus.

Not today, not in weeks. Inside him was turmoil, a state he did not care for.

A forgettable night, so he had expected at the time. He had been on the vampire's tracks for a few weeks already and it should've been easy. If Dean hadn't been in the way. Now Castiel knew he wasn't merely a human, but close enough. Stubborn human, insisting to turn off all warnings and go with a vampire anyway. The fight outside the club was hard and ended bloody, as all fights with vampires do.

Dean's response: "Man, what a party pooper are you?" and "Wanna come to my place?"

He should've said no. But Castiel had said yes. A room in a rundown motel, a bed hardly serviceable and yet they had spent the rest of the night there. A sweaty, sticky night and Dean's moans had been stuck in his head for weeks after. Thought he could feel Dean's lips and hands on his body for weeks after. Longing in him even back then, a desire for more he should not have given in to.

But they both had. A location spell later and they'd spent another night together. And another one. And another one. Then they started texting and calling each other almost everyday, mostly Dean telling him that he found the best cheeseburger in the state or what Led Zeppelin's best song was. They should've seen. Now they paid the painful price of a broken heart because they couldn't have more than a quick hook-up.

* * *

Dean didn't want to be here. Well, _something_ inside him compelled him to be here, but it hurt.

In a dark corner of the bar at a table sat Cas, but he wasn't alone. Him opposite sat a dark haired woman, more precisely a demon in a meat suit. Dean smelled the sulfur from here. Worse though, she was holding Cas's hand and if that jovial smile wasn't flirting, nothing was.

Dean's hand clutched hard around the bottle of beer, a hot wave of jealousy flooding his body and mind. A dark growl rumbled in his throat, "Fucking bitch! Better get her dirty hands off Cas."

The barkeeper threw him a strange look. "Messy break-up, eh?"

But Dean didn't listen. This how it was? First telling him that he loved him and now shacking up someone else? So much for love. Good then that Dean ran away from it all, that he didn't try this with Cas seriously at all. Would've ended like this anyway, wouldn't it? Someone else prettier than him, kinder than him, easier to be around than him. A woman was better anyway. Who knew, maybe Cas wanted kids? Dean couldn't give him one. The whole thing between them was more physical anyway, just lust. Horny men did a hell lot of stupid shit to get laid, Dean new from experience. Telling someone you loved them wasn't even in the Top Ten.

Not that he had thought Cas to be this much of a slimy prick. But Dean had seen stranger things happen.

He emptied the bottle and got up. Whatever this stupid bond shit wanted from him, it couldn't force him to watch this. So he left the bar, only to sit in his car stone still. What was he doing?

Dean Winchester never ran away from anything!

But this wasn't a monster he could kill. Well, Cas was a witch so he potentially could be, but he wasn't an evil witch. Moreover Dean liked Cas, he truly did - this was way scarier than a monster. He missed talking to Cas. Talking! So much for horny men, he scoffed at himself.

Frustrated Dean hit the steering wheel.

Could he have prevented this? If Dean hadn't run away that night but had stayed, would it be different now? Would the two of them sit at that bar table? Would Dean be holding Cas's hand and smile at him flirtatiously? Would Cas smile back? Would they be hunting monsters together? Maybe kill that demon bitch right there? Or would they find a nice house somewhere in the middle of nowhere and stay? Would they make a home together?

Dean shook his head. Ridiculous! A hunter died early and bloody, that came with the job. A home didn't. Besides, if Cas wanted a companion, romantic or magical, he probably already would have one. He had lived a century or two at least, Dean was sure from the way Cas spoke, so there been plenty of opportunity.

Why would Cas chose him? He wasn't smart or made a good trophy wife. He was good at hunting, repairing Baby and looking after Sam. Nothing about Dean was special.

* * *

The door flew open loudly, Dean's kick almost ripped out its hinges. The barkeeper yelled: "Hey! Don't fucking start shit, boy!", and the guests looked at him. But Dean didn't listen. His eyes focused on Cas and his demonic lady friend sitting at their table all relaxed and surprised. He couldn't say if the image of the two kissing heatedly was his jealousy or the bond showing off, but it was stuck in his brain.

"You're a dick, you know that?", Dean shouted at Cas while he walked over to him.

Cas stood up, hands held up appeasingly. "Dean, what're you doing here?"

"You know exactly what I'm doing here." The bond was a two-way street after all.

Cas's lips were pressed into a thin line. "It's not what you think it is."

"Oh, it fucking is, dick." Now close enough Dean bored his index finger into Cas's chest. "You replaced me with this demonic bitch!"

A tight grip, Cas held Dean's hand firmly. "I did no such thing, I would never."

"I'm seeing it with my own eyes!" This wasn't going like planned. Well, Dean didn't so much plan this and more had the gut feeling that he needed to do something. He was a fighter, so he fought.

With determined pushes Cas guided them towards the door. "She's a … friend, kind of. Nothing what you think."

"Drop the act, you ain't fooling no one", Dean hissed.

Cas grew frustrated, his brow furrowed. "Would you listen for a second? We kissed once, ages ago. Her flirting is just teasing, it's a joke."

"A joke, eh? They never turn serious, sure." Finally Dean stumbled over the doorstep again into the open.

Cas's blue eyes were piercing. "You ran away, so I took the hint and left you be. What's this now?"

"Don't you know nothing?" Why was Cas so clueless about all the normal things? "You're supposed to come after me, but you didn't." The bond was here, right? They obviously liked each other too much.

Quite literally Cas's face turned into a question mark. "Because you ran away."

"Because I love you!" Dean couldn't believe he had to spell this out.

Cas shook his head bewildered but Dean interrupted him with a kiss. A long, warm kiss. A kiss of belonging and coziness. They could be a home together.


End file.
